This weekend, I was invited to go with my family to the wedding (takk in Wolof) of my host mother's cousin (cousin being, like all Senegalese familial titles, an ambiguous term). The festivities were divided into two parts - the part at the house, and then the part on the street. On Saturday afternoon, I left for the wedding located in Medina with my host mom, my host aunt, and the maid, Diarra. My host uncle and host brother, Papi, arrived later, and the two little kids were dropped off at a cousin's house.
The first part of the marriage located in what looked like someone's home with a courtyard with lots of chairs set up surrounded by open rooms on both sides. And there were women everywhere - the older women were lying on beds or in chairs or on the floor - and there were some children - both boys and girls running around playing or running errands for their family. When we arrived, I followed my host family around greeting the elder women, and then began what was the first of long periods of sitting, a common theme in Senegalese celebrations. We ate our dejeuner in groups around bowls - this was when a few men including my host uncle and brother came - and then were given sodas and bags of water. It was kind of amusing to see everyone drinking their bag of water in their formal, elaborate boubous. Then they laid down fabric and the bride arrived in outfit one, a traditional looking Senegalese gown that was blue and pink with long sleeves and embroidery. Simplicity and elegance are not the goals of the Senegalese bride; this one sported almost neon-colored makeup and feathers in her hair - everything.
Next a group of women - seemingly the female representatives of the bride and groom's family - congregated in a circle around the bride and a lot of yelling and arguing happened. Very little of this I could understand - from a combination of my small Wolof vocabulary combined with my increasingly developed body language reading skills, I soon realized that the family was basically going through a ceremonial argument about bride price. People came over and gave the bride gifts and money, and there was a lot of what seemed like lecturing. My host mom wrote down how much money everyone donated in a notebook, and then another woman with a loudspeaker walked around bullying people into giving even more money. This was, unsurprisingly, a very chaotic period of time. Then we sat for another couple hours while women gossiped and my host mom ran around organizing things and I did what I do best - sitting and watching. I mostly just followed what someone - usually Diarra - motioned for me to do.
I should also mention that during this whole process, random people from the street wandered in and out trying to sell things - handbags, laundry detergent, sponges, etc. And a band just wandered in playing music and expecting donations of money. Typical Senegal.
After a while, we left and went to sit in a large tent that blocked the entire street and listened extremely loud Senegalese music playing (note, if you want a taste of the most popular songs, Youtube Viviane N'dour - "Waaw" is a very popular song at the moment). The chairs were arranged like a traditional church would be, with an aisle in the center and a stage like-area in the front that was later unveiled. I cannot do the decorating justice; it was kind of like a terrible mixture of Valentines Day and Christmas - I have never seen so many flashing twinkle lights. We waited for a really long time for all the women to file in. Then the DJ - somethings really are like the U.S. - told us to all stand, and the bride walked down the aisle accompanied by what seemed to be her attendants. But instead of any sort of ceremony or culminating event, this was simply a queue for guests to standin line to give gifts and take pictures with the bride...really anticlimactic for me since I couldn't understand what everyone was saying in Wolof. During this time passed out what looked like TV dinners to everyone sitting in the street, and that was about the extent of it.
My host mom spent a lot of this time directing people and yelling at the clandestine musicians who kept trying to sneak back into the tent but she occasionally would find me to make sure I was eating - a common theme in my household - and usher me to get pictures of the bride. Note: I'm pretty sure no normal person in Senegal has a camera outside of their phone. Photographers would continually be walking around taking pictures of people and then return a couple hours later with the printed versions to sell to them. Anyway, by 9:00, my host mom found me sitting silently with the maid, proclaimed that I looked tired, which I was, and told my uncle that I should return with him, Papi, and the maid, who looked a bit less thrilled to leave than I was. Although I felt like I was about five years old, I was extremely thankful...the whole thing was exhausting even just to watch.
A few points worth mentioning: this entire event lasted over 7 hours for me...my mom and aunt stayed there for about 10 hours. The bride also had three different dresses during the course of the night. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, also note that the groom never made an appearance, as far as I was able to understand. The real marriage takes place at the mosque, with only men present, so this was mostly a celebration for the women. Thinking about it, Senegalese weddings are the perfect style for the Bridezilla-type...it really is just her day.
As my uncle rather exasperatedly asked afterwards, you've never seen anything like that in the U.S., have you?
Good report, worth reading again. Still waiting to hear about the dress.
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